All or Nothing

by Meg Maguire

  “Ow, Jesus!”

  Jenna watched with a mix of anger and pride as Mercer angled his arm more sharply, doubling the guy over and shuffling him toward the elevators.

  Once they disappeared, she strode across the floor, smiling calmly and scouting for any upset guests. No one looked too perturbed. Hopefully people assumed it was a case of one-cocktail-too-many. She worried Rachel and her friend had left, destined to cross paths with Todd in the lobby, but she eventually found them in one of the private alcoves. Rich was sitting next to Rachel, Tina hovering nearby.

  “He’s gone,” Jenna said.

  Rachel looked rattled, but not traumatized. “Good. Thank you.” She sighed and shook her head. “That’ll teach me to blab on Facebook.”

  “Have you got a restraining order against that guy?” Rich asked.

  “No. He’s never hurt me. He just gets drunk and calls me, all upset and demanding I explain why I dumped him. Once he showed up at my work. He always just wants to talk.”

  “Get a restraining order,” Rich said. “Before he wants to do more than talk.”

  Jenna felt tired and thoroughly sober, slapped by proof of this darker side of dating.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I take full responsibility for what happened, and I promise you it will never happen again.”

  Tina cut in. “Nonsense. I’m the one who should apologize,” she said to Rachel. “I let him in without an invitation, after Jenna turned him away. This has never happened before at any of the dozens of Spark events I’ve overseen. I’m going to give you my direct number, if you need to talk about any of this.”

  Translation, Jenna thought, please don’t sue us. Thank goodness Tina knew the drill, though. This job was going to prove far more interesting than she’d imagined.

  They spent a few minutes making sure Rachel was calm, assuring her Todd wouldn’t be returning. Rich even managed to get a laugh out of her. She and her friend decided to stay for the rest of the party. Rachel was of the opinion that her ex had screwed with her head enough; she wasn’t going to keep letting him ruin things for her. The two women thanked Jenna and Rich, and Tina led them off in search of wine and distraction, doing her damnedest to repair the damage from her earlier mistake.

  “How is she?”

  Jenna jumped, finding Mercer at her side. “Oh, hello. What happened with the psycho?”

  “He got real mad and sloppy while I was talking to the security guys outside, so I got him hauled off to the drunk tank. A night locked up with Boston’s less-well-dressed lushes ought to put his choices in perspective.”

  She smiled grimly. “Good to know Rachel won’t have to worry that he might be outside someplace when she leaves.”

  “Nope. He’s headed downtown as we speak.”

  “I’ll be sure to offer her a cab voucher, if she needs one. And free membership for a month, if I haven’t totally wrecked her opinion of the company.” Jenna released a deep breath, feeling about eighty years old.

  Mercer rubbed her back. “Don’t sweat it. You’ve had your first crisis, and you handled it just fine. Had to get it out of the way sometime, right?”

  She turned to look up at him. That face, always so calm. “Thank you, Mercer.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  “Yeah. A job you’re not even being paid for.”

  He shrugged. “You offered. Don’t feel bad. Or if you do, blame your dad. It’s his fault I can’t help but be on your side.”

  “I’ve spent way too much of my life blaming my dad for stuff,” she said quietly.

  “Fine. Blame yourself, then. I did it for you, anyhow,” he added, smirking at her. “Fondness, not duty.”

  She smiled at that. “Sure I can’t pay you?”

  “I accept alternative forms of gratitude,” he said cockily.

  “That’s a very fine Rich impression.”

  He leaned in to kiss her and she accepted it gladly, wishing they were alone so she could thank him more thoroughly. She was about to inform him of such things, but the moment was interrupted as Tina walked over, seeming pale and frazzled, not a look she typically wore.

  “Everything okay with that Rachel girl?” Mercer asked.

  Tina nodded. “Yes, thanks to you and your colleague. Thank you, Mr....?”

  “Rowley.”

  “Mr. Rowley.” She paused, blinking, then went on. “The security company we’ve been using has apparently disbanded. I’d be very interested in discussing a possible contract....”

  Jenna bit her lip. Awkward.

  Mercer grinned. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

  Tina blinked. “I... No, I guess I don’t. Though you do look familiar.”

  “We met this afternoon, outside Jenna’s office? Me and Rich?” He nodded across the floor at him. “We run the boxing gym?”

  Tina gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “Oh God, of course you are. I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you all...formal.”

  “We’re just moonlighting, as a favor to Jenna.”

  “I see. Are you trained in security?”

  “We’re probably overtrained. We spend a lot of time prying large, angry men off each other, but sorry. Not looking to make it a career.”

  “Right.” Tina seemed to be coming to grips with the fact that she’d earlier written Mercer and Rich off as large, angry men. “Well, thank you very much for offering to help. You’ve really come through. And forgive me for not recognizing you. I feel so stupid.”

  Mercer shrugged, hiding the annoyance he must be feeling.

  Tina had likely seen them kissing, so Jenna went ahead and took Mercer’s hand. “Mercer and Rich volunteered to come tonight, to help me out.” A thought occurred to her, and she felt some gear kick in, some latent gene she must have inherited from her father spotting a weakness, springing to life and lunging forward to take advantage of it.

  “If you really are impressed and grateful,” she said smoothly, “I’m sure Mercer and Rich would appreciate a chance to have a meeting with you, and plead their case about you reconsidering the fate of the gym?”

  Tina’s eyebrows rose.

  “I’d appreciate it, too. I know you told me before it was a done deal, but maybe in light of everything that’s happened tonight...”

  “Um, yes. A meeting can’t hurt.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” Jenna went on, milking her advantage. “The gym’s not as seedy as everyone says. Not even close. The place could just use a little polishing, maybe a face-lift. A new sign, maybe redo the entryway, new hardwood stairs and railing. All improvements Mercer had hoped to make anyway. And far less invasive than the construction a new business in that space might demand—”

  Mercer nudged her. “I think she gets the picture.”

  Tina smiled tightly and nodded. “You’re right, it’s worth a talk. I’ve certainly had my mind changed tonight. And I’ll happily go to bat for you with the board.”

  Jenna supplied the rest. I’ll happily go to bat for you...if you’re kind enough to not mention how I violated procedure and personally invited a stalker to your mixer. Not blackmail, she assured herself. Just a bit of leverage. Jenna had to smirk at that, the idea that she might just have a bit of the shady businesswoman in her. She was more her father’s daughter than she’d realized.

  Once Tina turned away to continue circulating, Jenna squeezed Mercer’s hand.

  “You allowed to have a drink, after all that excitement?” he asked.

  She looked around. Everyone seemed to be socializing just fine without assistance. “I guess I could spare five minutes to catch my breath.”

  Mercer led her to an empty alcove then fetched her a small glass of wine. He sat sideways in the booth, dutifully facing the party, but it felt nice to be alone with him, just for a few mo
ments.

  “Thank you, again,” she said.

  “Thank you.” He shot her a gigantic grin. “You don’t actually think we stand a chance, do you? Her letting the gym stay open?”

  “Jesus, I hope so. If I can keep managing to channel my dad’s business sense, yeah, I think it may be possible. Plus it’s Tina’s decision. There’s no so-called board to take it to—she’s the final word when it comes to that stuff. She’ll just take a bit of finessing.”

  Jenna sighed, her adrenaline draining like bathwater. The reversal had happened so quickly. The possibility that the gym could stay was all at once real and glorious. That Mercer could stay, in her city, her life, her bed... She’d fight for that. Tooth and nail, kicking and screaming.

  “It doesn’t solve everything, though,” Mercer said. “Having the permission won’t fix a thing if I can’t manage to get the gym profitable again.”

  “No, but I have faith in you. And I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

  “Like screaming your lungs out when Rich and Delante clean up at the tournament in two weeks?”

  “As long as I can do that without actually having my eyes open for the carnage, then yes, absolutely.” She sighed, gazing around the party for a minute, collecting her thoughts. “Will you keep living in the apartment if the gym stays put?”

  “If you’ll have me.”

  “Now that’s a silly question. The real question is, which bedroom do we consolidate ourselves in?”

  He smiled and looked down at the table, suddenly cagey.

  “What? Am I being too optimistic?” she asked.

  “Nah, go ahead and be optimistic.”

  “What, then?”

  His smile deepened to a smirk. “We’ve been living together for a month, and sleeping together almost as long.”

  She nodded.

  “And we’re making plans to keep living together. Just seems kinda out of order. I haven’t even taken you out on a date yet.”

  She laughed, realizing it was true. “Well, we’ve both been busy.”

  “I can at least tell you I’m in love with you,” he said.

  Jenna blinked.

  “Before we’re officially shacking up in the same bedroom,” he went on. “I can at least do that in the right order.”

  Jenna tried to smile to keep from crying, different parts of her face fighting to be the one to express her happiness. “Wow,” she said, voice unsteady.

  “You surprised?” he asked.

  “Well, not entirely. I mean, I’m in love with you. I’d hoped maybe you felt the same way. I just... I didn’t think you’d be so easy to tease those words out of.”

  He shrugged. “I know when I’m beat. You win by submission.”

  She was grateful he was turning it into a little game. Now wasn’t the time to get all overwhelmed by the messy euphoria of her own blossoming romance. Business came first tonight. “We’ll talk more about this at home, Mr. Rowley.” She drained her glass and Mercer preceded her from the booth, giving her a hand as she stepped down.

  He scanned the crowd before checking his phone. “When’s this thing over?”

  “Ten. But I probably won’t be free to go until eleven.”

  “Hour and a half, then.”

  “Until you can finally escape my idea of a good time and get out of those clothes,” she teased.

  “Nope. Hour and a half until we can beat it home so I can rip that dress off you.”

  Jenna blushed. “Well. I’ll see if I can’t speed up the dismantling, maybe get it down to an hour and fifteen.”

  He kissed her, quick and firm. “Yeah. You do that.”

  14

  THEY GOT HOME LATE the evening of their first real date—dinner followed by drinks, the latter venue crashed by half a dozen of the guys from Wilinski’s, turning their quiet nightcap into an impromptu party.

  Mercer tossed his car keys on the coffee table. “Remind me never to let Rich in on my romantic plans. I may as well invite the entire gym.”

  “Aw, it was fun. Made me feel like an official part of the clan. Though I could have done without a couple of those rounds.” She set her bag down. “Especially since I’m dating such a teetotaler.”

  “Hey, I did a tequila shot with Rich. And I’ll be ending all that torture soon enough,” he said, meaning once the tournament wrapped come Friday.

  Jenna couldn’t wait for it to be over—so much was riding on Rich’s and Delante’s fights. Their outcomes would have very real effects on the financial future of Wilinski’s, and the suspense was killing her. But for now, she was relieved merely to be home after a long night—home with her man. She was still acclimating to the reality that he was staying, that he was hers for keeps. It had taken an awful lot of haranguing phone calls for Tina to come through with the official amendment to the Boston branch’s paperwork. Jenna wouldn’t have put herself above a bit of hair-pulling, had it somehow come down to that. Hanging around all these fighters was having some very odd—but undeniably useful—effects on her business bloodlust.

  She sank onto the couch with a huff. “Three more days.”

  “Don’t have to tell me—I’ve got a countdown clock in my head.” He bent to unlace his shoes.

  “I hope you’ve got me sitting in the nosebleed section.”

  “Instead of a section close enough to see all the bloody noses?”

  “Exactly. Though I think Lindsey might be up for that. I keep catching her on YouTube, watching MMA clips during her lunch break.” Specifically clips of Rich’s old matches, but Jenna kept that to herself. She only got to meddle in the love lives of people who paid her for the service...sadly.

  She yawned, already exhausted to know she had to be up in six hours to start another workday. So much for the post-first-date debauchery she’d envisioned, if Mercer was as wiped as she was. “You want the bathroom first, or shall I?”

  “No, stay comfortable. I need to get your opinion on something.”

  “Sure. What?”

  Mercer disappeared into his former bedroom—now a sort of catchall space, one day to be a properly decorated guest room. Curious, Jenna sat up straight on the couch.

  After a minute, the spare-room light went out and Mercer reappeared with a booklet in his hand. One of those college prospectuses? Jenna perked up, eager to hear about his plans once the tournament was through and he got a break from orbiting around Delante’s potential.

  He opened the booklet to a dog-eared page, passing it to her. “Tell me what you think of this.”

  Jenna’s breath caught. It was a slick, glossy pamphlet from a jeweler, and Mercer leaned down to tap a photo of a ring that had been starred.

  An engagement ring.

  “It’s gorgeous.” A simple design, with one larger diamond in the middle, three tiny ones bracketing it on either side.

  “Is it your style?”

  “It’s gorgeous,” she repeated dumbly.

  “It’s also insanely expensive.”

  “I’m sure. But we’ve been dating officially for, like, a minute. I love you, trust me, but why are you showing me this?”

  He laughed and took the pamphlet back, studying it a moment. “Because next spring I’m gonna compete in a pro tournament for the first time in three years, and when I win, I’m buying it. And proposing to you.” He met her gaze. “Then your hypercautious, by-the-book matchmaker brain will probably decide it’s too soon, so I’ll ask again the next month, then the next, and maybe a year from now, I’ll get you to say yes.”

  “Oh” was all she could muster at first. “That’s...that’s v
ery...”

  His brow rose. “Deluded? Presumptuous? Romantic?”

  “Well, it’s you. It’s very you. And it’s a beautiful ring. I love it.”

  “You gonna tell me not to do all that stuff I just said?”

  She let the giddiness fill her from the floor up. “I’m nervous to watch you fight. But no, I won’t stop you from doing any of that.”

  His smile was slow and deep, mischievous. “You’re an easier sell than I expected.”

  She blushed. “Well, it’s a really beautiful ring.”

  Mercer laughed.

  “You’re right smart to think I might be cautious, given the time frame.”

  He skirted the table to sit beside her. “I went my whole life till I met you taking or leaving all this romance nonsense. I always knew if there was a woman out there who was right for me, I’d know it when I met her. And now I know it. So no point beating around the bush. It’s you or bust. Plus your dad would murder me if I didn’t make a decent woman of you, after all these weeks of sullying.”

  She poked him with her elbow. “And you seem pretty sure you’ll win, huh?”

  He nodded. “I will. I’ll just remind myself that guy’s standing between you and me and that ring on your finger, and it’s a lock. What’s your ring size?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You got until March to find out.”

  She studied the photo again, boggled the diamond might be on her hand in less than six months. The “might” in that equation was all Mercer’s, though—if he proposed, she’d accept, no question. She beamed a smile at him and he leaned in, held her face with his free hand and kissed her.

  “I love you,” she said as they separated.

  “I love you. And I’m going to drive you absolutely bat-shit when I’m training, so just keep that picture handy so you know what you’re suffering for. Eyes on the prize.”

  “Oh, right. Will I be cooking a lot of steaks come March?”

  “That, and putting up with me spilling protein powder all over the counter, and swearing at the scale every morning, and quizzing you about everything that goes into whatever you make for dinner.”